You run, I run
by Ohthatbunnygirl
Summary: Though often overlooked, Theo and Blaise didn't mind keeping away from attention. Leaving the glory for others, and shielding their allegiances until the war drums beat too loudly to ignore. Rated M for smut, language, and violence (Blaise/Theo)
1. Chapter 1

Growing up Theodore Nott believed in the certainty of magic.

Before the young boy knew his letters he understood that it was magic that swept the marble floors, magic that kept the tea warmed to the perfect temperature, and magic that ensured ivory rose vines always bloomed along Nott Manor's walls. Everywhere Theodore looked in his immaculate household magic was not some abstract concept, or a fairytale trick. Charms, and transfiguration were everyday life skills, and according to his father the power was not only Theodore's inheritance, but his destiny and right.

The idea that one day he'd possess such knowledge thrilled Theodore, and from a very early age the frequently left alone boy gravitated towards the family's extensive library. Insatiably eager to read everything he could about the ability to manipulate reality, time, and tiny particles in the air. His greedy eyes practically devouring all they could: the outcome of tournaments, and battles all won by a lack of hesitation, and the right spell that could be learned.

Even the theories fascinated him, and there among dusty walnut shelves (and curled up in his favorite red velvet cushioned chair) the dark haired boy would dirty his small finger with smeared ink. Pouring over those ancient books with friendly devotion, and there was no question that someday magic would bend to his will.

After all, his family expected nothing less than spellbinding brilliance, and they told him as much. Repeatedly.

Shouted over the dinner table "Magic is your birthright" occurred with as much frequency as "pass the peas." On any given day his stern faced father might not once have asked how his young son had spent his solitary mornings, but the lovely dinner time conversation starter of blood supremacy was a given. A fierce almost nightly reminder that he held unique power worth protecting.

"Never dilute what has kept us pure." his father would warn in a crisp aristocratic tone.

Determined to get his meaning across Prometheus Nott would then stare down his son without flinching, and send chills rolling down his young heir's spine. Notch by notch drilling in the message that muggles were evil beings best avoided at all costs.

The threats were effective to say the least, and up until the impressionable boy turned seven Theo harbored a terrifying theory that muggles were actually monsters in human form who had come for his power. While most boys played with their imaginary friends little Theo pictured a greedy ginger-haired muggle boy lurking right outside his window that kept him up at night. Looking in with glistening white teeth ready to snatch him up in the middle of the night, and weaken his strength.

Equal parts curious and horrified to catch the muggle thief in the act Theo would leave out a candle at night longer than he should have. Clutching his covers to his tiny pounding chest as his eyes shifted back and forth, and keeping a shoe within throwing range.

Not surprisingly, by the time the young boy neared the end of his tenth year he'd had quite enough with muggle fear mongering. At that point Theodore's sadistic auburn playmate was thankfully long gone, but instead of nodding his head along to his father's insistent demands he'd stare down at his dinner. Biting back this overwhelming urge to scream at the top of his lungs that he'd heard all the purity talk before. Pushing his fork around his plate the sullen boy who'd never been allowed to fidget couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts School of Magic. Believing fully that there he would be able to do something with this "magic" that everybody was always raving on about as opposed to growing to resent it.

For restless Theodore age eleven couldn't come soon enough, but the years after that held far less mystical allure. In some ways his father's frequent lectures on going to school, becoming a Slytherin, and then marrying an obedient pureblood girl from a respectable family were a luxury that saved Theo from worrying over tomorrow. That was the plan, and unless the Nott heir intended to find himself cut off from his fortune there stood no hope for a future beyond this carefully weathered road, and absolutely no use dreaming for what would never be.

 _Everything is laid out for me, and that is good. That is my privilege, and that makes me better._

Perhaps his mother might have softened the edges of her husband's harsh lessons, but lifeless eyed Dahlia Nott was far too familiar with elf wine. Most days she'd keep it together enough to go through the motions of life, but at least once a year she'd fall into a bad "spell" that made the drinking worse. A tense time when sheltered away from her family she'd imbibe alone, holding herself as she danced, and crying behind closed doors. During those awful hours it seemed to poor Theodore that the whole house walked on eggshells to avoid disturbing mummy. They played their part, but even when she was fine she wasn't exactly all there. On her best days Dahlia was a beautiful shell of a witch who could only be counted on to dress well, and agree with Prometheus over dinner. However, occasionally she'd stop by Theodore's room, sitting on the end of his bed to run her fingers through his hair while he tried to sleep and slurring near his ear about all the balls and weddings she'd been invited to as a girl.

"Mummy-had-the-pick of any wizard she wanted...dance card full for the night...and yet here I am." she'd laugh bitterly through the nonsense. "Stuck being a bored mummy."

Without realizing it her nails would end up scraping along his scalp, and then planting a wet kiss on her son's cheek she'd leave. Gone in a swish of robes, and slamming her bedroom door hard enough to shake the walls.

Thankfully for Theodore most days Dahlia Nott made herself scarce. Either attending luncheons with other regal witches, or braiding her long jet black hair into elaborate styles in her room, or hiding out in her garden maze to avoid her husband entirely, and as much as possible her son who looked far too much like him.

Of course it wasn't his fault, but the boy tortured her fragile sanity with the same fine features as the elder wizard who once captured her hand before she'd known better. Before she'd looked past the flawless exterior, and seen a glimpse of the madness behind (another Nott family trait that moody Dahlia found less than agreeable). For the witch, the boy's looks were a constant reminder of everything she'd done wrong, and she didn't appreciate her faults up close and personal.

Not one bit.

However, there were sometimes rare beautiful days when she'd spy skinny Theo coming back from the family pond. Hair slick, eyes bright, and his mother would sober up long enough to remember that her sensitive inquisitive son was far kinder than his father. With any luck Dahlia hoped he might not turn out as cruel, but thanks to her abhorrence of her husband more often than not she avoided her Theodore entirely. Leaving her maternal duties to the timid house elf Bitsy instead, and fully expecting the elf to tuck the heir in at night. The lone affectionate caregiver happily did as much, and it was the elf who brought Theodore hot fresh biscuits on cold winter nights. Doting on the lonely boy, and loudly giggling when she'd find another book hidden under his pillow.

"Young Master Nott is the smartest boy!" She'd coo in her shrill voice. Grinning, and patting Theodore's arm (the only morsel of affection he'd receive for the day) before popping away for far less agreeable chores.

Snuggling inside the covers he'd fall asleep. Cozy, and safe, and better off than if his parents had come by. In Theodore's opinion those were the good nights. The evenings alone with Bitsy far far away from long boring parties, and with none of the terrifying Parkinson cousins for miles around.

Already at his young age, shy Theodore didn't appreciate gawking from pureblood girls and their ambitious fathers. On the few occasions his parents dragged him out for the night, Theo felt like an object on display. All hopes in dreams in dress robes, and bracing himself for the trick questions and interrogations designed to find where his loyalties lay. But clever Theo was courteous. Always appearing to be a proper obedient boy politely going along with his parent's wishes and making small talk. Under the supervision of others he'd smile, and use the correct fork, but all his good behavior came less from good breeding, and more from self preservation. Knowing far too well that there are spells which can hurt without leaving marks, and without another witch or wizard to turn to Theo learned about the infinite loneliness of love among duty.

To do as you're told, or else.

Occasionally whilst sitting in his room looking over Quidditch stats he'd pause for the smallest fraction of a second, brows pinching together as he wondered if maybe he wouldn't be forced to fulfill his duty. Just for a laugh he'd picture asking his father if he might become a dragon scholar, or a curse breaker, or what would happen if he weren't a wizard at all. Alone in his room Theo smirked over his father's surely horrified expression, but never would the boy have followed through. Especially since there was no use questioning "if" he'd have magic when the term squib was never once repeated in the household. The thought so completely inconceivable that the word didn't deserve a passing mention.

Too filthy on the tongue for civilized adults to speak of.

No, deviation from the norm wasn't an option, and so instead Theodore cautiously bided his time at Nott Manor. Counting the days until he left his home with a healthy hate for tradition, a deep suspicion for the outside world greedy for his gift, and never taking what another wizard told him at face value. Books alone he trusted, words on pages were reliable, and in his sunlight bathed library Theodore learned all he thought there was to know about the history of wizardry, and the certainty of fate. By the time he packed his trunk for Hogwarts, Theo could recite the ingredients for over two dozen potions, and the winner of the Triwizard Tournament in 1294 without trying. But nowhere in Theodore's vast library were any writings on kismet, and the power outside of logic that challenges faith.

In all his heavy books there was nothing at all about the moment when you look across a crowded room. When an indescribable electric pull grabs at you through a chaotic sea of stranger's activity. Squeezing around your heart, and dissolving your focus towards something unexpectedly intimate. The important magnificent gaze of somebody that shouldn't be familiar, but is.

Somebody that perhaps your soul recognizes as a person worth knowing, or maybe even an old friend in a new body.

Yes, nowhere in his books (or in his parental guidance) had Theodore learned about kismet, but the first time he boarded the train for Hogwarts, and he laid eyes on young Blaise Zabini he felt it all the same.

 _I'm going to know that boy._


	2. Chapter 2

An eleven-year-old Theodore Nott stood patiently waiting amidst the thrum of September activity on platform nine and three quarters. All around him scores of distraught parents hugged their children goodbye, owls hooted from inside their cages, and smaller children not quite old enough wailed against their mum's knees.

"I want to go! But why does heeeee get to go?"

From all sides extreme emotions zigged around at lightning speed until the last call onboard. The conductor's boisterous yell that officially signaled the end of the goodbyes, and yet while others cried Theodore didn't. Looking around he supposed he should have experienced a similar sentimental pang of loss, but oddly enough all he felt was pure relief.

"I best be off then." he told his parents, grasping tighter to the owl cage in his right hand.

Mindful of the audience around dissecting their every move Dahlia Nott, and her elder husband Prometheus each gave their son a short hug. Both lacking in true affection, but holding on long enough to whisper in his ear, "Remember to make the _right_ friends."

 _So none of those tricky muggles then eh?_

Barely containing a sour face Theodore nodded in understanding, shaking his father's wrinkled hand one last time, and then he never looked back. First too excited to get on the train, and then stuck mesmerized by a tall boy dashing by. He had a wicked smirk; a flash of pearly white perfection that widened as the boy shouted to his mother,

"I'm not sending one letter if you forget to send me the new trainers coming out next week!"

"Mind yourself Blaise." the gorgeous witch called back warily, shaking her head as the dark-skinned boy laughed. Actual mischief, and a streak of the devil lighting up in his exotic slanting eyes as he disappeared inside the train.

It was only the briefest moment.

An infinitesimally tiny blip in the history of the world, but Theodore froze in place.

Watching with parted lips, and trying desperately to catalogue everything good about the moment he spotted the boy so unlike the others. Cocky and gangly he should have immediately rubbed Theodore the wrong way, but he didn't. Not even when everything about his mannerisms read too loud, brash, and showy, and he didn't appear at all like a person his father might consider the _right_ friend.

 _I'm going to know that boy._

 _I just know it._

 _Hmm, I wonder where he'll sit? No doubt meeting up with his mates, he looks like the sort to have a bunch of loud close mates._

Without understanding why Theodore followed the other boy, staring at the back of this unknown Blaise until he stepped into an empty car. Outside the door Theodore chewed his lower lip, weighing his options as he considered what to do, and he couldn't make up his mind. On one hand meeting new people made him anxious, but on the other hand the stranger looked like he knew how to have a bit of fun. Up to that point Theodore's life had seriously lacked in fun, and he figured he deserved a smidge, but ultimately the nagging fear of rejection kept him planted in place.

At least until he felt a harsh tug on his arm, and he looked up into a familiar face. "Eh, Theo. Are you going in or not?"

Unfortunately, staring back at him was one of his least favorite cousins. The girl with a nose curved up high enough to keep on the same level of her ego who loudly repeated, "Have you gone dumb then? Are you in or out."

"Hello Pansy. I uh, yeah I guess I'm in."

"Well stop standing around like a weirdo then." One unforgivingly hard shove later Theodore stumbled into the car. Eyes wide with embarrassment when the boy from earlier looked up from running his wand up and down the seat.

Awkwardly fumbling around like a buffoon wasn't exactly the introduction Theodore had in mind, but there was no use moaning about it either. Standing up straight he nodded his head, and recovered his learned grace. "Theodore Nott, and this is my cousin Pansy Parkinson."

"Right, I'm Blaise Zabini."

At the sound of his name Pansy's eyes grew about two sizes, and her mouth dropped. "Zabini? Doesn't that mean your mum-"

"Is a poor recent widow again, yes." Blaise cut in, expression hardened with a dare to correct him look. "We're all quite sad."

"I see." Pansy smiled back, fearlessly sitting beside Blaise as Theo stood with his back against the door.

 _Hmm, well if Pans knows him then it means he's likely not a muggle born, or a blood traitor. That family is like a niffler for the horribly un-pure. So I reckon it's safe to sit down._

 _Go on then, sit down. Act normal._

With a loud huff Pansy cast her belongings carelessly down on the ground, and it turned out that sitting down gracefully across from Blaise was no easy task, but an up to the challenge Theo managed well enough. Crossing over without wobbling once he carefully set his owl's cage beside him. Pausing a moment to gently stroke the soft tawny colored fluff through the gold bars, reassuring his owl Perseus who looked on unconcerned. Ruffling his feathers the bird settled in for a long sleep, closing his massive eyes with a dignified hoot. The familiar sound calmed Theo, and when he sat back against the booth he discovered Blaise watching him.

Lips curled up curiously. "Is he yours then? What's his name?"

"Perseus of Macedon."

Blaise snorted. "Oh yeah, I can see why you called him that. Something about his feathers is very Macedonian isn't it?"

Theodore laughed. "Shut up."

"No, I mean he's very noble." Blaise's lips twitched with mirth, and he nodded his head solemnly."Is that like the name of some nutty ruler or something?"

"Yeah, paranoid Perseus was afraid his brother Demetrius might turn friendly with the Romans and usurp his power. So he convinced their dim dad that Demetrius was a traitor, and his father executed him."

"Oh, sounds like a lovely fellow. I'm sure he's quite pleased to have a tiny owl as his legacy."

To look properly miffed for the sake of his owl's dignity Theo turned away quickly, but it was no use. In seconds flat he burst into a fit of giggles that Blaise joined on in. Both of them laughing to tears while an unimpressed Pansy scowled. Rolling her eyes at the boys while shoving a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"Ugh, I can't believe you two are going on about owls and murder, and the bloody Boy Who Lived is on the train!"

"What?" Blaise's face sobered up instantly."Harry Potter?"

"Mmmhmm." Pansy grinned, licking her finger clean. "Bet your dad will just love that, huh Theo?"

"Reckon he's not getting sorted into Slytherin so no chance of us seeing much of each other anyway. Who cares really?"

"He's the Boy that Lived!" Pansy shrieked. "Everybody cares."

"Not me." a whining voice chimed in from behind, and they all looked over. Standing in the doorway a frustratingly proud Draco Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. He was smirking as usual with a couple of lackies already standing watch behind him, and Theo wasn't the least bit surprised.

 _Oh, goodie. I'd been wondering what Draco's been into for the past year. No doubt he'll regale us all for the next two hours with his thrilling stories involving kicking around frogs from his pond, and sneering at muggles. Perfect time for a nap._

As much as Draco's dramatic entrance didn't faze Theo he wasn't surprised either when the rest of the group launched into anti-Harry Potter rhetoric. All of them gossiping in a cacophony of whispered slurs, and dirty jokes that Theo ignored as best he could. Alone in his thoughts Theodore supposed the honor of going to school with the legendary Harry Potter should have sparked his interest too, but it didn't. After growing up in a household constantly warning the young boy about who all to avoid Theo planned to join school with a clean slate. Keeping himself out of trouble, and not looking for it either.

Already seeing the lack of sense in rocking the boat.

 _War's over. Why can't anybody get past that yet?_

As the train chugged on the boy kept to himself, and eventually the group's bickering droned into an annoying low hum that made Theodore grind his teeth, and sigh heavily against his window seat. Used to hanging out alone it was a tough adjustment to handle so much useless chatter so early in the morning. His head hurt, and it was harder still to listen to all the flimsy threats against somebody who hadn't earned his contempt yet.

After all, from what he'd read Harry Potter had done _one_ special thing as a baby, but nothing particularly extraordinary ever sense.

Compared to some of the most intense wizard battles in history Theo thought it hardly seemed that impressive to have just sat there and been hit by a spell. Seemed a bit lazy to be honest, and so practical Theo resolved on the spot to refrain from hating wizards for anything they'd done before they'd learned how to walk.

 _I mean I could have just sat there too. How hard is it really to not move when you can't crawl, and somebody a billion times more experienced than you is pointing the wand?_

 _Hardly seems like a wizard I should fear._

 _Also, a bit silly when all the pesky dying business could have been avoided simply by chucking the boy out the window. Sloppy wizardry all around that house if you ask me..._

While practical Theo frowned over the startling lack of common sense in the world the green hill landscape passed by in a beautiful blur. Holding his robes closer to his body Theo stared outside, finding the view infinitely more interesting than all the "kick Harry's arse" talk coming from five versions of his dad in miniature form. _Merlin, he would hate that comparison._

Smirking slyly to himself he rolled his eyes. Feeling foolish that for some reason he'd dreamed he could go a whole twenty minutes without hearing about blood, but so far this obviously wasn't the case.

"I'll shove his wand up his arse I will." Draco grumbled.

"As you should!" Pansy agreed, licking her lips after another chocolatey bite.

According to his father's wishes these were the "respectable" friends Theo was meant to have, but twenty minutes in he was antsy for new company. On any other day he would have up and left, but he stayed to hear more how Blaise felt. Already curious that the boy had initially shown interest in the gossip, but he hadn't joined in with the same enthusiasm for violence as Crabbe and Goyle. Rolling his wand across his knuckles Blaise barely paid attention, nodding occasionally, but he didn't call the others out either for getting excited over nothing.

Looking over quizzically at his newest acquaintance Theo tried to get a read on him, figure out what level of blood hating he resided at. He secretly hoped that Blaise might clock in somewhere under fanatical, but he was dragged out of his thoughts by Draco reaching the peak of his pompous posturing.

"Well father says that he can't be a Slytherin so there's no reason I can't kick his arse first chance I get."

Looking over his shoulder Theodore blinked. "Oh, your father's so positive that he won't be a Slytherin?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm, I had no idea Lucius had taken on acting as a sorting hat as a new career."

"What! No." Draco snapped. His pale lashes batting furiously, and across the car Blaise's lips quirked in amusement that he then hid quick enough when Draco sent Theo a withering glare. "Don't talk about my father."

"Yes, let's please not." Theo replied back cooly. Pleased to have manipulated towards the result he'd wanted all along he looked back out of the widow. Closing his eyes to the sound of Blaise's gentle laughter, and not minding it one bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**September**

The first time Theo entered the Great Hall a storm of sighs followed him.

All these little noises of excitement errupting as the other first-years pointed towards the magically lit candles suspended in the air, and Theo Nott looked on calmly. Having already read about the bewitching in 'Hogwarts: A History' he'd expected the starry ceiling. He also expected a sorting song to follow shortly, but the clever boy could never have predicted what happened when Professor McGonagall called his name for sorting.

"Theodore Nott."

Fully confident where he'd end up sorted Theo approached the stool with his aristocratic head held high. Already tilting his body towards the green and silver table he didn't looked bothered, but a panic tore through him when the sorting hat didn't immediately scream Slytherin. When the worn leather instead had a comfy sit, squishing around, and mulling things over.

"Hmm, ambition, and cunning I see - but oh that thirst for knowledge would fit in Ravenclaw quite nicely."

With every word spoken that wasn't "Slytherin" all of Theo's future plans came tumbling down. Life literally flashing before his horrified eyes as he imagined Nott Manor's door slamming in his face. Second by second he thought he might vomit on his shoes. Sinking lower into his chair little Theo prepared for the worst, but luckily the hat came to its senses when it heard the boy think it over.

 _Well, likely my father will have a heart attack when he hears the news, and he wouldn't have a chance to fix the will in time. So then I'll be rich, fatherless, and have pissed him off._

 _Guess it's a bit of win win._

"Slytherin it is!"

Grinning ear to ear Theo strutted over to the Slytherin table. Feigning nonchalance, and giving Goyle a high five. Looking the part until nobody was paying attention and he released the tiniest sigh of relief; never expecting the second moment he'd wish to cease existing would come on so quickly. When seconds after Harry Potter's sorting a brilliantly red-haired Ronald Weasley was called for sorting, and Theo squealed,

"Little Muggle Gingerhead!"

Everyone close enough to hear stared at Theo. Open mouthed in shock as Draco snorted, "Did you just call Ronald Weasley, Little Muggle Gingerhead?"

Giving his best guppie out of water impression Theo shook his head. Sputtering, "No, of course not. Uh, I was just um-

 _Convinced the invisible boy who tormented me was here to steal all of our magic._

"Uh," Theo cleared his throat."I was just uh, remembering a book I needed to read later."

Draco arched a brow. "Named, Little Muggle Gingerhead?"

"Yes."

Suspicious by nature Draco didn't look at all convinced by the sloppy lie, but thankfully Theo was saved from any further interrogation by a boom of clapping. A raucous cheering from his table that began after Professor McGonagall called the last name.

"Blaise Zabini."

For the rest of his life Theo would remember the feast that followed the sorting.

The instant comradery, the jokes, and all his favorite foods sticky on his tongue. For the first time in his life nobody reminded him to behave like a proper heir, and so Theo dug in, and ate himself silly. Shoving pudding, and ham, and peas into his gob, and only feeling a touch of shame when he wondered what Bitsy would think after his fifth cup of pumpkin juice.

 _Oh, I hope the Hogwarts elves don't gossip..._

Folding his napkin neatly just in case Theo slowly finished up the last of his meal, and later when the newest Slytherins walked through a tour of the school he learned his first important lesson at Hogwarts. The simple fact that there's a wealth of difference between _hearing_ about something, and _experiencing_ it.

It was at the end of the tour that the new first-years descended below ground level, and found themselves staring at an unremarkable stretch of stone wall. Assuming they'd got lost Theo snickered, but the laughter died on his lips when one password later they walked into the Slytherin common room.

When Theo couldn't stop looking around as they were welcomed to the lair of Salazar.

For years Theo suffered through his father's fond recollections of this room; all the blustery speeches on the brotherhood in a snake den, and finding equal peers among the muck, and blah blah blah. Based on his father's idea of a good time Theo had prepared himself for a place damp and moody with just a sprinkle of superiority. _Much like home._

But upon entering the dungeon-like room Theo's heart stuttered in his chest. Paused right below his ribs as surprising warmth, and an immediate feeling of belonging took hold of him. It was inexplainable how quickly he fell in love with the space, but it couldn't be helped when the decorations were a boy's dream come true. From the regal banners to the plush furniture everything looked exactly like the insides of a shipwreck kept pristine with hints of silver, and green.

This was Theo's new home, and he took to it immediately.

"Wow." Theo muttered beneath his breath. Awed, and running his hands along stone walls he'd assumed would be cold, but mysteriously weren't. Cheeks coloring up he looked away ashamed, but seconds later he was relieved to spy Goyle doing the same exact thing.

"Come on first-years!" their Prefect named Pucey called out, and the eager group followed him up the staircase to their rooms. Nodding their heads as though they were listening, but all of them marveling at the carved snake skulls intricately etched into the banister.

"Pretty wicked huh?" Blaise asked from beside him, and Theo nodded.

"Yeah."

Opulence he was used to, grandeur he'd seen, but there was something about the ancient architecture that felt powerful. Old magic, and secrets lurked in every corner waiting to be discovered, and suddenly Theo couldn't wait to write home to his parents. To brag about his sorting, and ask his father what his favorite portrait password had been.

Even the idea of asking his stuffy father such a silly question made him chuckle, but Theo was a mess of excitement. Curious, giddy, and feeling light in a way he'd never felt before.

A lightness that didn't even dim the slightest when hours later he lost miserably at Wizard's Chess to a delighted Draco. The shameless boy shaking the broken queen in Theo's face while taunting, "Oh, are you missing this Nott?"

Theo merely shrugged. "Looks like it."

Preening around like a peacock Draco grinned. "Are you heartbroken? Gonna have a cry?"

"No, I think I'm just fine." Theo smiled, and for the first time in long time he meant it.

0000000

The rest of the first week passed by in a hazy blur.

Before Theo knew it there were essays to write, Gryffindors to leer at, and a whole bunch of spells for him to end up being surprisingly poor at completing. After all he'd read, the boy figured he'd ace his classes, but apparently theory was one thing, and doing another. For some unknown reason Charms proved especially difficult that day, and his brow creased in frustration while staring down at his new worst nemesis.

"Wingardium leviosa"

 _Ugh, why is my feather snuggling up to my finger instead of floating in the air?_

"Wingardium leviOHsa"

 _Oh, sure now you hover while everyone's looking away. Fluffy bastard._

Thankfully between Blaise, Draco, and Theo questions in class were generally answered respectably enough to keep the good name of Salazar Slytherin from going down in flames. That's possibly why the professor didn't appear especially grieved over Theo's lack of feather finesse this time around, but there was also no denying who easily lead the way for most answered questions in one week. The insufferably enthusiastic Hermione Granger, currently floating her feather up in the air without even breaking a sweat.

"Wingardium leviOHsa"

Watching the bushy-haired witch succeed Theo's nose scrunched up in irritation. She made it look so easy that he flooded full of insecurity, but fortunately his failure immediately softened thanks to Weasley's stink face. Clearly the witch ticked off Little Muggle Gingerhead too, and Theo grinned victoriously until Crabbe looked over.

Gesturing at Granger while mumbling, "Show off."

"Yeah, she's something else." Theo whispered back.

Yawning, he looked back down at his feather, effectively ending the make-fun-of-Granger conversation. It didn't take a genius to tell that Crabbe itched to go further, but that morning Theo wasn't in an accommodating mood. Just the night before he'd been forced to listen to Draco drone on about how "her successes erode everything we've been taught by our parents", and how "putting her down is in fact parentally approved". Oddly enough, it was one heck of a stirring speech when shouted from the top of a bunk, but ultimately all Theo cared to do in class was learn. Quite simply he longed to know the most, and so Theo clutched his wand, and he left alone the harmless know-it-all witch he secretly found fascinating.

Annoying, but fascinating.

Of course out in the halls he'd never rush to defend her honor. They'd never be friends, but Granger intrigued him none the less. A living source of information about a life so unfamiliar and peculiar to him, and while blatantly bullying her held no allure that didn't stop Theo from occasionally listening in on her conversations.

Simultaneously bucking authority, and inconspicuously eavesdropping.

Already taking to his snake nature quite nicely.


	4. Chapter 4

November 1991

Sitting up in bed Theo flipped through his Herbology book. There wasn't anything particularly pressing to study, but the cold snap of winter kept the boy inside on a Saturday. As if to remind him the window shook with a menacing howl, and resting his cheek in his hand young Theo resigned himself to a day of silent reading.

 _ **Dittany' comes from the Ancient Greek δίκταμνον, supposedly Δικτή, meaning Dicte.**_

 _Wow, those Ancient Greeks sure knew how to throw a party, and name boring plants._

 _Hmm, wonder what Draco thinks about the etymology of Dittany?_

Turning his head Theo called out, "Malfoy?"

Across the room a loud whine answered back muffled nonsense. A weak pathetic grumble from a rather regretful blonde boy sprawled across his bed with a sheet pulled over his head. After a Chocolate Frog overload Draco had crashed. Now miserable and dramatically rubbing his rumbling tummy as there was no Mrs. Malfoy to pamper him.

Only a cheeky Theo periodically shouting out loud rubbish questions to rile him up.

"Dittany means Dicte."

"Whaaaat?" Draco moaned from beneath the sheets kicking his feet.

"Dittany means _Dicte_ ," Theo replied innocently, fluttering his long lashes. "Just thought you'd like to know."

"That," the suffering snake hissed."Is just as useless as your fact three minutes ago that you can't kiss a pixie covered in clover without expecting a bite."

"It's solid advice, and I thought you'd enjoy knowing that _Dicte_ is healing. Maybe some _Dicte_ could help you."

Throwing the sheet off his head Draco's eyes blazed. "Are you seriously mocking my pain so eventually I'll say 'I desperately need _Dicte'_ , and you'll have a chuckle?"

"No...though you just did." Theo laughed.

"Noble House of Nott my arse!"

Climbing out of bed with his pillow Draco whacked Theo's foot. In return, Theo lazily flicked his wand, shooting tiny annoying puffs of air into Draco's aggravated face.

"Ventus!'

Smack.

"Ventus!"

"Urgh!"

Smack.

All in all it was a rather poor excuse for a fight, but it beat boredom.

Giggling until he struggled to breath Theodore Nott never imagined he'd one day count notoriously spoiled Draco Malfoy as one of his best friends. Growing up they'd barely tolerated each other. In fact, at Pureblood society functions Theo used to purposefully avoid the other boy like Dragon Pox. Though Theo couldn't exactly put into words why; he'd disliked Draco wholeheartedly embracing and flaunting his expectations and wealth. To a boy so often reminded to be seen but not heard, Draco's airs came across as tacky, and it was only the fact that he _was_ a Malfoy that saved him. Nevertheless, Theo had avoided spending more time with his contemporary than absolutely necessary.

But apparently Hogwarts truly was magical.

Sorted and stuck together the intelligent heirs were forced to converse, and soon their similar flair for snark kept the commons lively. To the annoyance of their roommates sarcasm shot back left and right daily, but it was their shared obsessive dislike of a Ronald Weasley's face that truly cemented the friendship.

Hatred: the great unifier.

Eventually Theo came around and found Draco's rants rather hilarious. The easily ruffled blonde flew off the handle so easily that it was great fun to stealthily goad him on. And in the process Draco chipped away at the sizeable block on Theo's shoulder, loosening him up to laugh more, and now earning a sly Theo smirk topped the list of one of Draco's favorite pick-me-ups.

Claiming that it was a bit like catching a snitch one handed; hard but satisfying (a comment that Blaise snickered about for at least fifteen minutes).

For better or worse Theo found a surprise friend in Draco; a treasured friend attempting to pummel him with a tasseled cushion.

"Fancy! Annoying-"

"Ventus!"

"Urgh, stop puffing my face!"

Smack.

"Ventus!"

Winded from the exertion and clutching his queasy stomach Draco finally dropped his fluffy weapon. Holding up his hands for a truce he managed a dignified smile, and Theo shot him one last air puff to the face.

"Ventus!"

Closing his eyes Draco's lips pursed in irritation. "You're acting like an infant."

"Says the boy who shoved fifteen treats in his mouth."

"Ugh, don't remind me" Draco pouted, turning away to leave. "I'm off to the nurse, but when I get back I'll thrash you like you deserve."

"Looking forward to it!" A smug Theo waved goodbye, considering it far more likely that Draco would find him later and not thrash him. After all, if they ever _really_ hurt each other who would they irritate?

Too hyped up after the skirmish Theo didn't have the patience to read anymore, so he pushed his book off his lap. Picking up his wand instead he ran his small fingers up and down the smooth eleven and a half inches of elm as inspiration for a new hex hit him. Against his skin the addictive hum of magic guided his fingers to glide upwards, but he was interrupted when the door to the room banged open, and a blur of skinny arms and long legs ran in.

Wheezing and out of breath, Blaise tossed his book bag down onto his bed. Scowling at his possessions as Theo shot him an incredulous look.

"What happened to you?"

"Uh, I uh," Blaise huffed, smeared at his face. "Wound up on a moving staircase, twice. Then I got stuck in a sinking step, and an obnoxiously helpful Hufflepuff yanked me out. Bloody embarrassing."

"Again?" Theo's mouth dropped."W-What happened to the Steps to Avoid list I made you?"

"Well clearly I lost it." Blaise snickered. "Where's everyone else?"

"Dunno," Theo answered, setting down his wand. "Malfoy thinks he's dying, and Goyle's been gone all morning."

"Did you convince Malfoy he's dying again?"

"No," Theo laughed. "Oddly enough, this time I had nothing to do with it."

Barking out a laugh, Blaise sat on the end of Theo's bed. Amused as ever when after he'd barely messed up the covers Theo ran them over straight with his hand. Patting the mattress as if apologizing for his friend's poor manners.

"What about Crabbe?" Blaise asked.

"Crabbe's serving detention with Professor McGonagall."

Tugging his tie off his neck, and kicking off his shoes Blaise's lip curled. "And what did he do to deserve that?"

"Nothing, but the lion tamer _might_ have suspected he pushed Susan Bones into the lake."

Blaise arched a brow. "And why _might_ she have thought that? Didn't he?"

"No," Theo grinned. "He actually didn't, but McGonagall _might_ have thought he did when I _might_ have hit the girl in the back of the knees with a stinging hex whenever Crabbe walked by."

"Hmm, there were a lot of _mights_ in that sentence."

"Yes, well if I gave a straight answer I wouldn't be much of a Slytherin now would I?" Theo wiggled his brows.

"You've got a point. We'd have to kick you out, and then who's ridiculously neat notes would I copy off from? Right, best stick to vague _mights_."

"Will do."

Unbuttoning the top of his sweat drenched shirt Blaise beamed, but his expression hardened as a troubling thought occurred to him. "Wait, doesn't that mean you just lost us House points? Why would you do that to Crabbe? And by Crabbe I mean _me_ , and _my_ house pride."

"I did it, because in History of Magic that stubby little bulldog asked if my father was around during the time of King Arthur."

"Ok, that's a shit joke for sure, but no offense your dad's fairly ancient."

Setting his book on the top of his trunk Theo replied, "Oh, I wasn't offended, but now others know if they tease me it'll hurt them more."

Blaise's eyes widened in shock, and then shaking his head he chuckled. "You're quite mental Nott. You might act all proper and quiet on the surface, when really you're right diabolical."

"Thanks." Theo proudly grinned, and he handed over his opened box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. Knowing full well about Blaise's loathing of red food he'd already picked the red ones out earlier. In more ways than one Theo accepted and accommodated where the other boys teased. Finding that brightening Blaise's mood with something so simple was no chore at all, and it was just as well really, as he prefered cherry anyway.

Shaking out a couple beans Blaise smiled gratefully. Popping a yellow one into his mouth - _lemon_ , if the purse of his lips were any indication,

"Thanks mate, I'll hit you up with some after the break when I convince that stubborn mum of mine to get over her little irritation."

"Oh, she still mad about that letter Professor Dumbledore sent her?"

"Yeah, claims she's withholding her affection until she's close enough to whoop my arse." Blaise laughed, his eyes creasing into thin slits until he groaned pitifully."I'm really in for it Theo, if you ever wanted to say anything kind to my bum you might consider saying it soon. I fear he's not long for the world."

"Nothing comes to mind yet, but I'll think on it."

"I'll expect something awfully sappy."

"Dear Blaise's butt, I knew you well...enough."

Staring at each other they traded matching grins, and when Blaise generously handed him a bean Theo's mind whirled over his luck at finding friends. From the first moment he'd seen the misbehaving boy at the train station he'd prophesied that they'd click. In his bones he'd had a feeling they'd be close, and then sure enough easy as breathing they'd fallen into friendship. Both of them quickly realizing that they preferred writing in their journals, that they were less violent than their peers, worse at Wizard's Chess, and that neither one had had much luck in the stimulating conversation department with either Crabbe, Goyle, or Flint.

To be honest it was a bit of slim pickings intellectually with the first-years, but luckily Theo had witty Blaise as an outlet.

 _The boy's too magical for his own good._

Pushing his dark hair off his forehead Theo smiled, but thinking about magical anomalies reminded him of a question he'd long meant to ask. Attempting to rephrase as respectfully as possible he chewed on his lower lip, scrutinizing his options, and then clearing his throat he looked over.

"So, I was wondering...um, why is it that everywhere but the dungeons you're so quiet? I mean, not that I mind it or anything I just wondered what's that about? Do you have like a public speaking problem?"

Blaise snorted. "Nah, it's mostly because one I'm in class, two Malfoy's loud enough for the rest of us, and lastly girls like a mysterious guy."

Without realizing it Theo's grip tightened on his wand.

"W-Wait, are you even into girls yet?"

"No. Sort of...not really, but mum says that girls like a bit of mystery so it's a long term plan."

"But you're so chatty with us?"

"Yeah, but you've all heard me fart. The mystery's gone."

For a solid second Blaise attempted a serious face, he really did, but when the bed shook with Theo's giggles he lost it too. Both of them cracking up before Blaise pounced, tackling his best friend and sending multicolored beans flying in the air. Shrieking out in surprise Theo valiantly fought him off with Draco's dropped pillow- the same weapon used against him- but Blaise mercilessly ruffled his friend's hair. Poofing it up like he knew he hated while Theo hissed in retaliation, and pinched Blaise's side. Hooting with laughter the slippery snakes rolled off the bed, and they continued roughhousing for the next twenty minutes as only eleven-year-old boys can.

Kicking up pillows and sheets with nobody to tell them not to, both of them warm and happy despite the chill outside.


	5. Chapter 5

**December 1991**

Picking around the raisins in his porridge, Theo yawned. The night before he'd slept a solid ten hours, but it might as well have been ten minutes. For some reason no matter how long he slept Theo never felt rested. He'd always wake up with dark circles round his eyes either way, and this morning proved no different. Closing his weary eyes again Theo took another lazy bite, when mid-chew a gust of wind grazed above his head announcing the arrival of the morning owl delivery.

All around the Great Hall students gasped in excited expectation. They tittered with awe, but Theo kept on chewing. Positive that there'd be nothing for him today, or possibly any other day.

 _Not like it matters._

He hadn't always been so cynical. Starting at Hogwarts the little heir naturally assumed his parents would write often enough to keep up pretenses of affection. Clearly it was too much to hope for a letter every week, but he'd expected a passing degree of warmth, a small token of esteem.

Although shy and introspective by nature Theo surprisingly didn't hate the idea of drawing attention to himself over breakfast. A part of him thrilled at the thought of Perseus finding him in the crowd; the owl majestically showing other scrappier birds how it's done. Far too curious to wait any longer Theo reckoned that the day after sorting seemed like a fine day for a letter.

 _I can't wait to see what father says about everything! I wonder if he'll actually tell me what his favorite password was._

 _Bet it's a laugh like Jazz Snake, or Swing Snake._

 _Obviously some form of musical snake involved..._

Bright and early Theo sent his trusty owl out with the good news, and all morning cheerfulness fluttered in his chest. A giddy eagerness, and excitement brimming inside of him to read his parents flood of pride. For hours Theo walked around with all the cocky swagger of a Malfoy in an eye rolling competition, but when Perseus returned the reply was less than flowery.

 **You've done as expected.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Father, and Mother**

In a heartbeat Theo's ecstatic smile fell into a frown. However, with a stoic face he neatly folded up the parchment, treating the note tenderly as if the contents held value as he slipped it into his trouser pockets.

Then looking over to Draco he plastered on a smile. "They're massively pleased. Likely I'll get something flashy for Christmas."

Carried away on a present tangent, Malfoy gladly swiped attention away from Theo. Bragging loudly, "Oh! Father's already promised me a trip to Wales! Of course we've already gone loads of times, but I expect this time I'll wind up with a private chat with Gwenog Jones."

"The beater captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"

Malfoy grinned. "Family friend, you know."

Satisfied that he'd solidified his superiority Malfoy turned back to his waiting minions. Regaling Crabbe and Goyle with his news as Theo looked down at his porridge. Holding back all his emotions he pushed his spoon around the bottom of the bowl, but his appetite had vanished. Replaced by the rank taste of disappointment soiling his mouth, and the hard swallow wasn't lost on the boy sitting beside him.

Setting down his goblet of pumpkin juice Blaise leaned over.

Keeping his tone casual, but soft enough for only Theo's ears. "It's nice your parents are pleased. I always figured that old families are never happy. Today my mum's hounding me to be at the head of the class for Potions. It's like, can I have a minute mum?"

Theo's eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's a tough one."

"Sounds like it."

"That's why it's best to rely on friends to pick you up, you know?" Blaise said, offering up a cheeky smile." 'Cause families are always there to bring you down, they're downright reliable."

Theo snorted, looking away with a growing smile. Clueless that crumpled in Blaise's hand was his mother's reply; a response entirely lacking in any sort of admonishments, and only full of praise.

oOoOoOo

A few weeks before the winter break, Theo turned morbid.

First, smiling less, and then openly glaring at the caroling decorations and decked halls. Every where he turned the lead up to the holidays aggravated Theo, and he never would have predicted the depressing effect of holiday cheer. He couldn't shake his rotten mood though. For some reason each day had the opposite effect on him than his fellow Slytherins: Malfoy was predictably smug; and even Goyle less stone like than usual. But the festivities irked the sullen boy who wholeheartedly prepared himself for a rather dour holiday season with his family.

A time with far less goodwill cheer and far more frosty demand filled dinners.

As they closed in on the holidays, Theo's anxiety built until a strange desperation took over. Turning his insides until one day at lunch he dropped his fork, and stared blankly at his kidney pie. Without the will to eat anymore his mouth went as dry as the Sahara, and the invisible grains of sand only multiplied as the day he couldn't avoid approached.

The day when he'd be forced to trade in his cozy nest of happy garden snakes for a den of vipers.

 _I don't want to go. I don't want to go. Why do I have to? Why do we even need breaks? Why can't we just stop going to class, but still hang out?_

 _Who even likes their parents?_

To be sure, Theo's family had never exactly been a hugging sing-around-the-yule-log type of crowd. But over the past few months Hogwarts warmth had slowly challenged young Mr. Nott's expectations. Little by little he began to severely question his lonely upbringing. Realizing, with a jolt, that perhaps not all wizarding families were so cold and indifferent.

Of course he'd observed other happier families on trips to Diagon Alley. He'd seen rosy cheeked children twirled around by their parents, but before he'd thought them dim. With troubling self-reflection Theo now realized that he'd been brainwashed to believe those children lacked proper decorum. So willingly he'd looked down on them with his father's encouragement, pitying their misfortune. In the past it had all made sense, but in the present it felt horribly wrong, and for the first time knowledge made him miserable.

Desperate to cope he buried his troubles in his journal.

Escaping into a story he wrote where he grew up happy, and did exactly what he liked. In his tale he traveled the world while hopping from one career to the next; blissfully free from the chains of responsibility, and only burdened by having too many possibilities.

Nobody knew about these hopeless dreams scribbled so furiously into his leather bound book, but the other Slytherin boys often heard the feather quill scratching away. A steady back and forth of scraping that only quit right before bed. Paused, when little ink smudged hands laid down the wand, and exhausted Theo would stare up at his bunk's ceiling.

 _I wonder if I could write to them to let me stay. I hear others stay. It's not like they'd really miss me much…they barely take notice of me anyway._

oOoOoOo

After spending most of his childhood holed up in the Nott's massive library, there were a great many facts that Theodore Nott knew.

He knew that giants and werewolves were to be avoided at all costs. He'd also read that The Durmstrang Institute didn't accept Muggle-borns, and that Veelas were thought to possess their own kind of mythical wandless magic. The well read boy knew oh so many interesting facts about the world around him, but he barely knew himself.

For years he'd gone about believing he slept peacefully, but one late night jab to his arm proved otherwise.

"Ow!" Theo groaned, blinking awake into the dark.

"Get on your side." An angry voice whispered beside him, and Theo recoiled away in fear. Banging his head painfully on the top of his bunk before he recognized the slim boy crouching beside his bed.

"W-What Blaise?"

"I said to get on your side _Theo_. You're snoring up a snot storm."

Mouthing dropping in shock he snarled, "I most certainly am _not_!"

"Malfoy," Blaise sighed, looking over his shoulder towards Draco's bed. "Was he, or was he not, roaring as loud as a Hungarian Horntail in heat?"

"I feared for my life." Draco grumbled mid-yawn. "You were dragoning all over the place."

"That's not even a word!" Theo hissed defensively.

"Oh don't get all fancy dictionary on me. It's three in the bloody morning, I've barely slept-"

"I don't snore!"

"You do."

"I don't!"

Sensing that they weren't getting anywhere fast Blaise groaned in annoyance. Standing up decidedly, and without asking he climbed into his friend's bed. Physically turning the startled boy onto his side, and loudly huffing, "That's it! You're getting on your side."

"Hey! What are you doing? Get out of here-"

"No," Blaise jabbed the end of his wand into Theo's squirmy spine."If you refuse to get on your side I'm going to lay here, and make you."

"That's weird."

"No, it's called behavioral therapy. You're doing something destructive, and I'm correcting it."

"That sounds Muggle-y." Theo raised a suspicious brow.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures mate."

Horrified, Theo curled his legs up closer to his chest, closing himself off from the shame, and hoping to avoid the embarrassment of their toes touching together. Still stubbornly resisting the accusations he buried his head into his pillow. Mumbling, "It's just allergies."

"Well, they're allergies you've had for over three months." Blaise whispered. Snuggling in closer for warmth, and when his breath brushed the back of Theo's neck the tiny hairs there stood on end.

Suddenly Theo's eyes widened in shock. "Wait! Did you say three months?"

"Yeah," Blaise whispered with a chuckle. "Usually we're too tired to care, but you're in rare form tonight. So I'm staying up, and every time you lay flat and snore I'll hit your back with a stinging jinx. You'll learn to stay on your damn side, and you might actually feel better in the morning. It's a win-win."

"What?" Theo shrieked. Attempting to turn and attack Blaise, but the wand jabbed harder into his back. "Ow! That's sadistic, and I don't think you get what a win-win is! I'll just do a silencing charm so you can't hear me."

"Do you know a silencing charm?"

There was a long pause.

"No."

"Then stinging hex it is!"

For hours Blaise kept his word. Patiently watching over drowsy Theo, and hexing him when his friend shifted onto his back and snored. Every time he'd awake with a startled shout that made Malfoy and Goyle erupt into fits of giggles in their bunks, and well into the night the other boys laughed to tears, but Blaise never joined in. Instead, he'd apply a cooling rag to ease the burn, and he'd whisper apologies as Theo bit into his pillow, and cursed them all to hell.

"Sadistic prats."

"Yes we are."

"This will _never_ work." Theo whimpered pathetically. "It's just torture."

Leaning in closer Blaise wrapped his arm around Theo's waist. Hugging his friend lightly where nobody could see, and whispering near his ear, "Well, you've been pouty all bloody week. This is _one_ thing I can fix before the break, so I'm gonna try."

Patting his hip, Blaise broke the embrace, but the stings kept coming. Repeating the next five nights, and brutalizing poor Theo's back until he finally kept on his side. That full night's slumbering silence validated Blaise's theory, but Theo didn't celebrate. Not when after the "treatment" ended he'd realized with a heavy heart that he slightly missed waking up with Blaise beside him.

Passed out with wand in hand, but close enough for Theo to see that somebody actually cared.


	6. Chapter 6

December 1991

On day four of Theodore Nott's seemingly endless winter break the small boy comfortably lounged in his favorite chair. Breathing in the dusty library scent he smiled, and then with a mighty hand flick he unfurled fresh parchment. That one glorious motion draped the finest paper galleons could buy across his lap, and while gently biting his tongue between his teeth Theo got to work.

From the minute he'd left the train station, Theo had missed his new school friends something awful. On at least three separate occasions he'd stopped himself from writing, but in the end he'd patiently waited a bit to look a little less desperate.

 _No one will think I'm a loser at four days. Three would have been pushing it, but four is casual. Totally casual._

 _Most casual guy ever loves four..._

Hearing himself spin out a little nutty Theo shook his head, and dipped his fluffiest quill in dark ink. Inside he remained an antsy firecracker, but miraculously the boy took his time composing his message. Clocking in at slightly under thirty minutes, he perfected a deceptively simple correspondence without a smudge of ink; an impeccable letter certainly up to the Nott family standards.

oOoOoOo

 **Dear Blaise,**

 **How are you? I'm super bored.**

 **Before coming home I didn't realise how loud it was living at Hogwarts. I thought the school was a normal volume, but now it's almost eerie going so long without hearing Peeves calling me, "A little first-year fart face."**

 **Ah, the things you take for granted.**

 **Well, aside from the quiet I AM pleased that father's stocked up on new history books! At four hundred we were clearly running dangerously low (haha) so thanks to his excess I've kept busy over the break researching bloody battle descriptions (the Baron will be so pleased!).**

 **I've had a gruesome good time! You'd honestly be amazed how many Goblin weddings end in decapitations, or doing a dance of Spring (or both).**

 **Can you believe that Christmas is already in a week? What do you think you'll receive?**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Theodore Nott**

 **The Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott**

oOoOoOo

Exactly one day later the Nott family sat together in their stately dining room. Passing around tea, skimming over The Daily Prophet, and munching their breakfast in relative silence until a gentle tap echoed off a window pane. All at once three heads swiveled towards the noise, and when Theo recognized the long-eared owl waiting outside he promptly dropped his scone.

"Father?" Theo spoke up in his most polite voice. "Might I be excused to answer the owl? I know how you despise too many taps at the table."

Setting down his knife and fork, Prometheus Nott shot the feathered intruder a withering glare. Dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin he weighed his options, but as the elder wizard did indeed loathe keeping a bird waiting he begrudgingly nodded his head.

"You may."

Mindful not to scrape the floors, Theo slowly pushed away from the table. Walking to the window the boy felt his parent's inquisitive stare boring into his back; and so instead of rushing forward (like he very badly wanted to) Theo walked with as much dignity as he could muster. Seconds later the owl chewed a treat, Theo held the letter, and after carefully opening up Blaise's response he bit down hard on his lip.

Fighting back a burst of laughter over his friend's thoughtful reply.

 **Coal.**

oOoOoOo

Exactly one hour later Perseus of Macedon took flight. Journeying hours through heavy winds only to knock on a bedroom window, and turn the head of an extraordinarily somber boy. A formerly pouting boy who immediately beamed in amazement at the offered letter. Leaning on the windowsill Blaise read the letter twice, laughing harder each time, and he gave the waiting bird a plump chestnut for his troubles.

 **Dear Blaise,**

 **You're mental! I can't believe you made your poor owl fly all this way for one word!**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Theodore Nott**

 **The Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott**

oOoOoOo

Attempting to save himself from an early death by boredom Theo went out on the following morning for an "exploration".

Luckily, among the family's ornate hedge maze walls, Theo quickly found natural entertainment. The walk was a riot of color. All shocking pink petals, slashes of crimson berries, and bursting violets out of season, filling his soul with life that drained away so quickly inside the manor. Passing the time in paradise Theo kicked around a fallen orange, and he thrilled to the feel of sunshine on his cheeks with the squish of damp ground beneath his feet. Free from his parent's judgmental airs, Theo's good mood bloomed as magnificently as any other flower in the garden's glow, and soon he grew frisky.

Kicking the orange straight towards the face of a fat cherub sculpture, and sadly for the angelic marble Theo's aim proved true.

With a loud pop the wet gushing smush sent pulp flying, and victorious Theo ran off with an earsplitting battle cry. Declaring himself an enemy against all rotund art he pumped his arms in the air, shrieking like a banshee in the breeze. Running around in circles the boy made quite a mighty raucous before noon; and though Theo's mother heard him from the second floor bath she was drunk enough that he stayed mercifully safe from her scolding.

Celebrating down winding paths Theo felt invisible, powerful even, and with an appetite for destruction he stabbed an attacking rose bush. Thwacking the petals soundly with his wand until suddenly there came an insistent hoot over his shoulder.

"Ah!" Theo screeched.

Whirling around like a tipsy fool, Theo tripped over his own feet. Staggering backwards hand over feet, and with a loud "umph" he sunk halfway into a hedge wall. Between the leaves of his unexpected floral prison Theo cackled, and as the shrubbery shook he waved a leg towards his favorite golden-eyed courier.

Giggling, "Hullo Hannibal!"

The owl blinked, and Theo swore he shook his feathery head in disapproval.

Not ready to give up his good mood the boy lingered in the greenery. Blissfully running down the dignified name of Nott until finally he could get a grip on his giggles, and get free from his ungraceful position. Plucking errant leaves from his hair he winked at the owl. "Now this is just between us two friends. So, absolutely no need to hoot to Blaise about my stumble in the jungle."

Sweetening the deal Theo offered the tired feathery messenger a bit of brownie from his pocket, but after reading the ink smudged note he wished he hadn't.

 **Dear Theodore,**

 **Hannibal looked a little tubby, so I figured he could use the exercise.**

 **But look at you sending Perseus of Macedon out with only two sentences, and he's so very thin already. Gonna give him a complex…**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Blaise**

 **The Far Less Ancient House of Zabini**

oOoOoOo

Over the next few days the two owls earned their keep. Zipping back and forth over murky British skies just for the pleasure of amusing two giddy young wizards trading rapid-fire responses. Though their poor wings might have drooped with exertion the owl's efforts were not lost on either boy, and they enthusiastically complimented their message bearers. Always making sure to keep an assortment of nuts readily available, and between letters the boys looked towards the window far too often.

 **Dear Blaise,**

 **Nonsense! Perseus thinks the world of himself, and there's nothing I could ever do to convince him otherwise.**

 **Now that I think of it, he's likely part Malfoy. Hmm, perhaps I'll write Draco and inquire if anybody in his family has ever "ruffled some feathers".**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Theodore Nott**

 **The Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott**

oOoOoOo

 **Dear Theodore,**

 **Please! Please write that letter to Draco!**

 **That would be a hoot (pun so intended).**

 **Since coal is all I'm getting for Christmas this is likely the one true gift I can hope for. So be a pal, and ask a wildly inappropriate question for my pleasure! You know you want to.**

 **Also, do you reckon there's a way to charm a letter to take a picture as it's read?**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Blaise**

 **The Mildly Less Respectable House of Zabini**

oOoOoOo

 **Dear Blaise,**

 **If that charm exists I'll figure it out! Can you imagine Draco's face?**

 **But, back to the whole Christmas coal business...why exactly are you only expecting a lump in your stocking? Have you been bad Blaise? Did you soil the name of Slytherin by actually getting caught?**

 **Warm Regards,**

 **Theodore Nott**

 **The Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott**

oOoOoOo

 **Dear Theodore,**

 **Warm regards? That's new, but as it's quite cold today I'll take whatever heat I can get.**

 **Yeah, sadly this Christmas is shaping up poorly for your buddy Blaise. All 'cause for** _**some**_ **reason mum didn't appreciate my spirited introduction to Future Stepfather Number Four.**

 **I know what you're thinking, but it's hardly my fault this time.**

 **I mean, second day of the break mum sprung this Arsenio Burke fellow on me. Here I thought we were spending the day ice skating together, and then this pompous tosser shows up out of nowhere. A big mustached idiot kissing my mum's hand as he spoke bloody** _ **French**_ **to her. Said something about her being, "Le chat** **café au lait."**

 **Now, I wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but it sounded either weird, or sexy, or just racially insensitive enough** **that I felt compelled to action. The powers that be pushed me to misbehave!**

 **Theo, I swear I had no choice but to squeeze a bit of lime into his warm milk when he wasn't paying attention. And how was I to know he didn't want a mouthful of curdled milk?**

 **Already Warming up Regards,**

 **Blaise**

 **The Slightly Grim House of Zabini**

oOoOoOo

 **Dear Blaise,**

 **You are insane. You are a boy with a death wish, and my hero.**

 **Did he immediately vomit? Merlin, no wonder you're in trouble.**

 **Sending Warmer Regards,**

 **Theo**

oOoOoOo

 **Dear Theodore,**

 **Hey! Where did the fancy signature go? Now how will I know which Noble Ancient House you belong to?**

 **To answer your delicately worded question, yes, Mr. Burke did indeed spew chunks.**

 **And while that weak wizard busied himself puking into his pancakes Mum flew off the broom handle, and locked me in my room! It sucks, because before this stupid imprisonment I'd planned to invite you over. I still would...but you might want to visit when there's more to see.**

 **Though I can say my closet is lovely this time of year.**

 **Long story short-I'm grounded until at least January. However, I do wish that you'll have a better Christmas than I do. At least one of us should thrive, and I guess this year that's you.**

 **Less Warm Regards (it's too hot now),**

 **Blaise**

As Theo finished reading his friend's letter he couldn't wipe the smile off from his face, and with extreme care he placed the treasured paper inside a hollowed out book alongside the others. Crawling out from the hiding spot under his bed the boy stretched, and his shoulders unexpectedly felt lighter. For days, a mysterious tight tension had taken up residence nestled between Theo's shoulder blades, and he couldn't remember how it began, but after Blaise's letter everything miraculously relaxed.

"Weird how that feels better." he spoke to no one in particular, rubbing his back as he sat on his bed.

Unbeknownst to the boy, the pinch was all due to an insecure fear manifesting physically. For whatever reason a part of Theo had stubbornly believed that Blaise hadn't invited him over yet, because he didn't _actually_ like him all that much. After all they'd hung out together this theory of course held very little water, but as Slytherin's aren't prone to spilling their gushy feelings Theo naturally suspected ulterior motives. But there, written bold in ink, was finally a logical explanation for their time apart. It turned out that Blaise _had_ wanted him around, and suddenly Christmas didn't feel half as lonely anymore.

Unwilling to keep all the goodwill cheer for himself Theo dove back under his bed.

Grunting as he pulled out a small trunk filled with sweets, and he cleverly wrapped the thinnest pieces inside of a copy of The Daily Prophet. When tied up neatly with ribbon the parcel resembled a normal morning paper, and pleased with his work Theo gave the largest chestnut in the house to Hannibal.

Telling him in a low whisper, "Only give this to Blaise personally, and under no circumstances allow any fussy Frenchmen to have a look. If you succeed there's a whole walnut tree worth of goodies for you."

Though no hoot passed from owl to boy a deal was struck all the same. Without further coaxing the bird took flight, and two days later an already plump owl nearly ate his weight in nuts from the Nott family gardens. Glaring in amusement at an enraged house elf who was under strictest orders to let the bird have his fill.


	7. Chapter 7

**Two Days Before Christmas**

Right before Christmas the Nott family took to their gardens to keep sacred a tradition as old as their bloodlines. Bundled up in their warmest robes they quietly strolled along winding paths. Aware of their pristine surroundings, but ignoring the urge to chatter over the weather as they paused only to pluck the most exquisite flowers. Inside a white wicker basket the cut florals were then laid carefully beside the most luscious fruit the garden bared, and only after each had rightfully earned Prometheus's approval.

"Those will do."

For hours the family walked in the pale sunshine seeking out perfection. They didn't much speak, but at least Dahlia Nott remained in her right mind that morning. Refreshingly sober and clear-eyed, the witch smiled often at her boy. Occasionally, she'd feel enough of a burst of maternal duty to hold his hand, and he'd catch the lingering scent of her perfume carried by the breeze. A clean lemony smell as light as her moods were dark, and affection starved Theo wasn't keen to let her fleeting adoration go.

Hoping to stretch the day out to infinity, her son purposefully passed prime floral options, but eventually the sun dipped into the horizon. What needed to be done was accomplished, and they returned to inside. Following behind the head of their house, the Nott family took their seats at the dinner table, and for the next hour they personally assembled the tenant gift baskets.

They worked together as a seamless unit. Trimming, sorting, and bundling with nimble fingers and purposeful minds. Arranging the freshly picked oranges beside aromatic sprigs of honeysuckle, and crimson poinsettias.

While Christmas carols filled the air, the wizarding family took meticulous care, and finishing the last basket Prometheus turned to his heir. Gaze unflinching as he asked, "Do you know why we hand deliver these baskets to our tenants? Do you understand why we go through the trouble when we could easily let the elf take care of matters?"

"Yes father," Theo replied automatically, having repeated this yearly speech for as long as he could remember. "We personally send them to show our mutual appreciation."

"Exactly." Prometheus nodded, holding up a flawless orange. "To remind those dependent on our estate's generosity that we provide so long as their regard _blooms_ , and never turns _bitter_."

"Do the tenants understand the warning?"

Standing up from the table Prometheus offered his arm to his wife. Leading the family outside again with their offerings, and smirking as the lush fruit turned to ash in his hand. "If they hope to live in their homes I should hope so."

 _oOoOoOO_

 **Christmas Eve**

 _Twinkle. One, two, three, four, five, six._

 _Twinkle. One, two, three, four, five. Twinkle._

As he did every year Theo laid on his back. Out of sight he stared up between the fragrant branches of the Christmas tree, and he smiled. Utterly bewitched by the multicolored lights flashing above, and silently he counted in his head between the blinks. Nobody could say it wasn't a repetitive winless game, but Theo didn't mind shutting off his thoughts when his parents fought in the other room. The lights shimmer, he counts, and there is comfort in tradition.

 _Twinkle. One, two, three, four, five. Twinkle. One, two, three, four..._

 _oOoOoOo_

 **Christmas Day**

Smack dab in the middle of a thrilling flying dream Theo woke up with a choking gasp. Burying his face into his pillow the disappointed boy groggily mumbled about wanting to get back on his dragon, but oddly enough he could still feel the biting wind nipping at his cheeks. Even under thick blankets he felt frosty, and tucking a hand between his fidgeting knees he shivered. Still not nearly ready to get up, Theo kept reality away for a few seconds longer with eyes shut tight. Determined to stay until his teeth practically chattered right out of his mouth, and when he rubbed his face it felt uncommonly wet.

 _What in the heck?_

Throwing back the covers Theo's opened his eyes. All around the boy there were perplexing mounds of cold wet white. Convinced he was still dreaming Theo rubbed his eyes, but sure enough the boy's bed stayed positively covered in snow. A veritable winter wonderland surrounding him as a tiny wrinkled elf gazed intensly at him.

Cupping her cheeks in her hands, and staring at him with open-mouthed wonder. "Merry Christmas Young Master Nott!"

"Er, um...M-Merry Christmas Bitsy." Theo stammered back in startled awkwardness. Smiling a little goofy despite himself, and then gesturing to the small mound of snowflakes on his chest. "Did you? Did you do this?"

"Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks?" Theo laughed, forming a small snowman on his stomach. "Have you been waiting there for long?"

"Only an hour."

"Does that mean mother and father are waiting?"

"Yes."

"Right then," Theo yawned, squashing his snowman. "I'll be down shortly."

"Perfect!" Bitsy smiled hard enough that her eyes twitched. Looking more crazed than usual before holding up material charmed to flash red and green. "And here are your favorite Christmas pants!"

"Hey! Those were just plain white yesterday."

"Yes, and now they are filled with holiday cheer!"

"Ugh, ok…"

Moments later (and not in flashing pants) Theo Nott joined his family in their main living room. Theo didn't even realize he was hungry, but his stomach did a series of happy little flips when he encountered the pleasing aromas of roast turkey, mulled wine, and brussel sprouts (which Theo will only pretend to eat). If the holiday smells weren't cozy enough there in the fireplace roared a green lit fire; and with the additional hints of holly and mistletoe sprinkled around the room the boy felt downright festive.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas Theodore." his father faintly smiled, handing his son a thin envelope.

"Merry Christmas Theodore." his mother joined in, raising from her chair to surprisingly gift her young son a quick hug. In one of their rare embraces Theo relaxed, and when Dahlia let go far too soon the boy turned away. He hid his disappointment, and excitedly ran his finger along the envelope's seam until his father's sniff made him pause.

"I-I suppose I should wait until after the match."

"That would show remarkable patience Theodore." his father replied, and sensing that patience was his only option Theo bowed his head in submission.

Showing his approval Prometheus flicked his wand, and an entire wall came to life. Images flickering along the plaster charmed to show a live English team quidditch match as the family sat on the stiff sofa to eat. Shoulder to shoulder they respectfully consumed the delicious elf prepared meal, and watched the game that Theo understood on principles, like he also understood he'd be rubbish at playing.

For all of his father's airs Prometheus loved a good match. They all did, and even Theo's mother's eyes lit up as she watched a Romanian beater zip across the field. Leaning in closer to the screen Dahlia's thin lips parted in awe, and when realization hit she enthusiastically pointed at the player.

"I knew him! We went to school together! I didn't know Ivan still played."

Unaccustomed to hearing his mother excited about anything Theo stared curiously at the brawny man. Taking note of his moves, and unfortunately watching far too intently right as the beater mercilessly hit a bludger straight into an unsuspecting opponent.

 _Well, he seems delightful._

"So he went to Hogwarts with you?" Theo asked, still crossing his eyes to blur out the gory images on the wall.

"No."

"But I thought you went to Hogwarts."

"I did." Dahlia smiled softly, but when she caught her husband's pointed stare her face immediately sobered. Voice now tight as she explained. "But in fifth year your grandparents worried about muggle-born influence. I was forced to leave my friends, and went to Durmstrang where I met Ivan."

"Did you like it there?"

"It was cold."

For the rest of the match Dahlia kept her opinions to herself, hands folded primly over her knee as she watched. It appeared that any fire that had sparked alive inside of her smothered out after her outburst, but from his stretch of the couch Prometheus did not act at all outwardly upset by the change. While sipping on cider Theo's father watched the game with passing amusement, nodding his head at points earned, but keeping a dignified silence in the face of entertainment. In fact, the only glimmer of obvious enjoyment came from Theo. A little squeal here, a little gasp there, and a loud exhalation when the English seeker missed the snitch for the second time in a row.

"Does he got butter on his hands? Is that what happened?"

Squeezing his head between his palms Theo groaned, but then seconds later the snitch found itself into English hands. Leaping to his feet Theo clapped with a whoop, and Prometheus's lips curled up into an actual smile. "They did well."

Riding high on a wave of euphoria Theo turned to his father. Entirely forgetting about that pesky virtue called patience as he asked, "Can I open my gift now father?"

"You can."

The words were barely out of his father's mouth before Theo opened the envelope in one try. Three tickets landed in his palm. Holding them up to the light the boy read aloud the elegant scrolling words in a near screech, "England versus Italy!"

"Yes," Prometheus nodded."The match is at the beginning of the summer in Ottery St. Catchpole, and you'll notice that there are _three_ tickets. However, your mother will be staying behind, and that means you are to have a friend along with you-"

Bursting full of inspiration Theo immediately knew who he'd invite. Without even closing his eyes he could picture poor Blaise all sad in his room now shouting jubilantly over the news. Never had the idea of making someone else so happy felt so right for Theo, but just as quickly as he dreamed all those hopes they were spectacularly dashed away by his father's interruption.

"Of course, I've already sent a letter out to Lucius, and you'll be happy to know that Draco has accepted the invitation."

Theo blinked. "Draco? You invited Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, your mother and I were most satisfied to hear that you've taken up with the _correct_ sort of peers. We expected nothing less, but when Lucius wrote to see if you'd care to visit Draco over the next break I took the initiative of accepting the invitation, and extending one of my own. Merry Christmas Theodore."

Tempering the flash of disappointment, Theo slipped on the airs of gratitude he knew were expected of him. This present was massive. Unexpected. Seeing as he did truly enjoy Draco's company the opportunity to watch a live match with a friend was still an incredible gift, and there really was no reason to pout. No reason at all for his stomach to feel a little hollow as he kissed his mother softly on the cheek.

"Thank you both."

"Hope you enjoy yourself Theodore."

Still holding onto the tickets for dear life Theo turned back to Prometheus. Schooling his expression, but mildly shocked to find his father already lazily returning the room to its ornate mediocrity. Wrapping up festivities without so much as having finished his cider or opened the misshapen gift addressed to him from Dahia and Theo.

"Aren't you excited to go see a live game father? It's going to be amazing!"

Standing up from the couch with a creaky sigh Prometheus merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know if anything excites me these days, but I suppose it will break up the monotony of my life for an afternoon. So there's that."

 _I think that might be the most excited I've ever heard father!_


End file.
